


The Kid’s a Natural

by Kereea



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Dyslexia, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9361622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kereea/pseuds/Kereea
Summary: AU: Spy did not know how he felt about the son he’d never met of being so damn good at helping his urban mercenary team with their jobs.For the sake of his sanity, he was going to go with proud





	

 “An’ this is for breaking Engie’s fingers!” BONK. “This is for stalking me an’ my dad!” BONK “ _This_ is cause I think you’re ugly!” BONK.

 “All right, all right, Scout, that’s enough,” Miss said after the hit to the man’s left hand, shattering all its bones.

 “Oh, okay,” Scout said shouldering his bat, a bit of red appearing on his cheekbones. Spy really, _really_ hoped the man they were trying to interrogate hadn’t seen that blush. Lugging a huge bat or not, a love-struck teenager did not exactly strike fear into men’s hearts.

 “Now, the boss has some questions for you,” Miss said. “And you’re already on the bad sides of Scout and Spy. Let’s hope you have something for me, because trust me, those two mad is one thing. _My_ rage is something else entirely.”

.o.o.o.

  _“You have a what?” Dell laughed._

_“A son,” Jean explained. “Fifteen.”_

_“So why’s he need to stay with you if he’s fifteen?”_

_“Oh, it’s more complicated zen zat,” Spy said, his accent thickening as it always did when he was stressed. “E ‘as seven older brozers and_ none _of zem are willing to care for ‘im!”_

_“And you’re too damn nice to leave him on the streets or make him drop out for a job, izzat it?” Mundy asked._

_“E’s Charlene’s son.”_

_“Ooh. The one you think ve don’t know you send money to vile you pretend she’s the vun who got avay?” Ludwig asked._

_“Fuck you,” Jean said._

_“Wait…if the kid’s got to be…oh gods, sorry,” Mundy said, patting Jean on the shoulder while removing his hat._

_“Car accident. Can you believe it? I worried it would be some Mafioso we screwed over,” Jean chuckled. “And it was a_ fucking car _!”_

.o.o.o.

 “So there’s a third player, huh?” Miss asked, polishing her pistol.

 Spy lit a cigarette. Miss’ boss mostly played the two biggest mobs against each other, sending the team in to keep tensions high. A third player could upset her machinations greatly.

 “He…he wants Blutarch and Redmond gone!” the man whimpered.

 “Gone?” Scout laughed. “They run the tri-state area! How the hell is one guy going to make _them_ gone?”

 “Scout has a point,” Miss said. “How the hell does he plan to do it?”

 The man shrugged, “I don’t know.”

 “Scout,” Miss and Spy both said at once.

 Scout cracked the man over the head. It was enough to cause pain, yes, but nothing near a knockout. Barely a tap, really, coming from a boy who could utterly demolish a car in under a minute.

 “I really don’t know! I think it sounds insane!” the man said.

 Spy stepped forward. Too much more blunt force trauma to the head and they’d get nothing from the hostage. “Think harder, mon ami.” He drew a pistol and then emptied all but one bullet from the magazine. “And think quickly.”

.o.o.o.

  _“So…”_

_“So,” Jean said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”_

_“So you knew or something?” the boy, Jeremy, asked._

_“Oui. Your mother and I separated amicably but she and I thought it better if I stayed away,” Jean said. “I agreed and merely sent money along.”_

_“You’ve got pics of you and her,” Jeremy noted, spying one on Jean’s desk._

_“She was ze only woman I ever loved,” Jean said, shrugging. “She sent a few of you along.”_

_“So you definitely knew,” Jeremy said._

_“Oui.”_

_“Never thought my dad’d be French.”_

_“I am from many places. I merely spent my most formative years in France.”_

_“Uh…huh.”_

_“Middle and high school years. Some of college-age years too.”_

_“Oh, okay,” Jeremy said. “Umm…you got somewhere for me to sleep?”_

_“Oui. I converted my office. Hence ze desk right by ze door.”_

_“Oh, um, sorry, didn’t mean to put you out.”_

_“It is no trouble. I actually found several documents I thought lost when I was clearing it out. I did not decorate, I assumed zat you would prefer to.”_

_“Oh. Thanks,” Jeremy said. “Um…this is really awkward.”_

_“Yes, yes it is.”_

.o.o.o.

 “He—he’s got a guy!” the man screamed as Spy went to pull the trigger the fourth time. “Some guy who’s making something!”

 “Oh, _do_ become vaguer, mon ami,” Spy sighed. “You do not give me ze man in charge and now you do not give me his man wiz ze plan?” He pointed the gun at the man’s crotch.

 “I don’t know his name!” the man screamed. “I really don’t!”

 “Spy, back off a bit,” Miss said, stepping forward with Scout at her side. “Now then, what _can_ you tell us about his planner?”

 “He’s not a planner, he’s some kind of inventor!” the man whimpered. “He’s making things so the new guy can take over!”

 “Toys,” Spy spat. “Toys do not make a takeover.”

 “Oh, these ain’t toys,” the man said. “They’re fucking scary.”

 “Tell us how scary,” Miss said as Scout shouldered his bat. “Now.”

.o.o.o.

  _“Ze rules are fairly simple. Do your best in school. Do not go out late. Do not interrupt if my coworkers are over,” Jean said._

_“Uh…okay?”_

_“Is zere somezing wrong?”_

_“Nah, just not used to rules beyond ‘do what Ma says,’” Jeremy admitted. “And ‘don’t let Jim set things on fire again.’”_

_“Again?”_

_“Long story. You don’t wanna know.”_

_“I can sympathize. If love of fire is ze issue, my coworkers and I ‘ave our own ‘Jim’.” He did not know where Dell found that girl, but was she_ ever _good at arson.  “Anyway. If you would rather do zis in such a way zat we rarely interact, zat is fine. If you would like to be around each other a bit, zat is also fine.”_

_“You seem to be taking this pretty well,” Jeremy noted._

_“I am a master of controlling my emotions,” Jean replied. “Good for ze company evaluation business, really. It lets people know you are not out to get zem, zat it’s just your job.”_

.o.o.o.

 “Security bots?” Scout laughed.

 “Yeah it sounds funny, but it’s not. It’s really not,” the man said. “These things have guns that make AR-15s look like nothing!”

 “ _Many_ guns can make an AR-15 look like nothing,” Spy replied. “Our friend ze Heavy calls zose children’s guns.” Hell, he called Spy and Scout’s revolvers “baby toys.”

 “And—and I know this sounds crazy—he’s got bots that can walk like a person. So, you know, he can drop one in front of enemy territory and just tell it go to shoot everything. And since it’s solid metal it’s hard to bring down,” the man whimpered.

 “Spy, go get Engie and Pyro,” Miss said. “I’ll be fine with just Scout. We need a mechanic’s know-how to figure this out…and to make sure it’s right, we’ll hold our guest’s feet to the fire.”

 Scout snickered and Spy smirked as the man whimpered.

.o.o.o.

_“You’ve got a gun?”_

_“Oui. Many in ze city do. Zere’s a lot of crime around ‘ere,” Jean said, shutting the drawer. “Do not touch, Jeremy.”_

_“Hey, I’m not stupid. Bobby brought a pistol home one day and shot himself in the foot before dinner. Ma was pissed…” Jeremy trailed off with a sigh._

_“I think she’d be quite proud of you. You’re doing quite well, given ze circumstances,” Jean said. “New home, new school, new baseball team…you’re adjusting pretty quickly.”_

_“Even if I drive you up the wall?”_

_“I was not in your life for ze first fifteen years of it. I’m sure it is just a condensed version of ze annoyances I missed,” Jean replied. “Zo your music is still terrible.”_

_“Man, you have_ no _fucking sense of rhythm.”_

_“No, I have a functioning set of eardrums, which you seem bound and determined to deprive me of,” Jean replied. “And you eat terribly.”_

_“You eat like a snob.”_

_“You barely know what vegetables are!”_

_“I know enough to know they suck!”_

_Jean threw his hands into the air and they both retreated to their rooms until someone felt like saying sorry. Just like all the other times._

.o.o.o.

 “Sounds right strange, if you ask me,” Engineer said, the fingers on his good hand drumming on the table.

 Pyro quickly moved the lighter closer to the man’s left hand.

 “I know it does but it’s true!” the man screamed. “That guy, Doc Conagher-”

 “Who?” Engineer and Miss demanded, the former striking the man across the face.

 “Doctor…Doctor Conagher. He’s who’s building it. I just remembered his name on a form…” the man whimpered.

 “Think this doc could really build that stuff?” Scout asked.

 “Oh yes indeed he could,” Engineer mused. “Yer gonna have ta tell us exactly what these machines do, ya hear?”

 The man nodded in terror.

.o.o.o.

_“So this is the wee lad! Jane, Jane, have a look!”_

_To Jeremy’ surprise it was not the woman with the pigtails and thick sunglasses who answered, but a beefy man with a square jaw in a camouflage jacket. “No so wee, Tavish, but I see the point! Sgt. Jane Doe, pleased to meet you!”_

_“Not really a sergeant,” the Australian with the thick glasses said softly. “But shh. Don’t tell ‘im that.”_

_“Excuse me, do not act like my son is some zoo animal. Philistines,” his father huffed as he entered with several decks of cards and some poker chips. “Do we ‘ave business to talk or not?”_

_Jeremy hoped they didn’t. He hated hanging in his room with his boom box turned up whenever they were having a meeting._

_Not that it wasn’t suspicious enough. His dad worked with, among others, a Texan inventor, a Russian literary analyst who was built like a bear, a creepy medic with a creepy accent and a creepy dove, a sarcastic Australian who specialized in ‘targeted fixes’ and now apparently a black Scotsman and a fake sergeant with a girl’s name._

_And Dell’s…actually he didn’t much know what to call Mimi. Hell, he’d met her five times and hadn’t heard her talk once._

.o.o.o.

 “So what are we going to do about these bots?” Scout asked.

 “For now, nothing,” Spy replied. “Unless zey make zemselves our problem we shall wait to see what we will be paid to do.”

 “You did good tonight,” Miss said. “I’m sure the Administrator will be pleased with what we’ve uncovered.”

 “Hey, you’re no weak sauce yourself, Miss!” Scout said.

 “Well, thank you,” Miss said. “And…okay, in the bug-free zone now, guys.”

 “Great, so, Miss Pauling, you doing anything Saturday?”

 Spy chuckled. His son had an inexplicable crush on their contact. Then again, he himself had always been partial to black haired women…one in particular.

 “Pulling teeth out of dead bodies.”

 “Oh. Um…Sunday?”

 “Sand belting off said bodies’ fingerprints.”

 “Um…anytime you’re just burning them?” Scout tried.

 “Oh, no, the cops would be there in minutes. Hence all the other prep. Oh! You can help me drive them to the dump site on Monday, when you get out of school!”

 “Sweet!” Scout said. “I’ll be there!”

 Spy wondered if he should be worried. Probably not.

.o.o.o.

_“Who the fuck was that?” Jeremy yelped, staring at the man he’d just clobbered with a bat. “Why’s he at our house? Why’d he have a gun? Why do you have a gun? Oh, wait, you own a gun…”_

_“Jeremy, if you could please go to ze phone and call Ludwig._ Now _,” Jean grunted._

_“Oh fuck, did he shoot you?”_

_“Oui. He has a good silencer, so save ze gun,” Jean said. “I’ll handle him, go call Ludwig.”_

_“Th…the fuck are you doing?”_

_“My job. Now go,” Jean said, taking the unconscious man’s gun and pointing it at his head._

_Hmm. It was superbly quiet even on a second shot. He should ask Dell to whip up some copies…_

_“Um…doc’s comin’,” Jeremy said. “You…you do…stuff like this?”_

_“Oui.”_

_“And you didn’t want me to know?”_

_“Also true.”_

_“You…you aren’t gonna kill me now, right?”_

_“No!” Jean barked. “Of course not, do not be_ absurd! _”_

_“…We’re gonna have to move, huh?”_

.o.o.o.

 Spy stripped off his baklava and then leaned over the sink to splash some water on his face. That warehouse had not had _any_ air circulation. Jean sighed and toweled the front of his hair dry. He hated when he got it wet when he was just trying to clean his face.

 “So, robots? That’s weird even for what you do,” Jeremy said, reaching around him to grab a toothbrush.

 “Yes. It is not something I ever thought I might encounter,” Jean agreed. “Well, for now we ‘ave ze weekend off, so I expect your homework to be done by Monday morning. Or else no very odd pseudo-date with Miss Pauling.”

 Some days he wondered how this business dragged in people as young as his son and Miss Pauling and Mimi and somehow made them competent so quickly. Then again, the ones who did not become competent were likely already dead.

 “Feh. Slave driver.”

 “Just pass your fucking classes and you’ll never ‘ave to do another sum again if you wish!” Jean called after him.

.o.o.o.

 “ _No, Heavy, put him down!” Jean groaned. “’Ee iz staying and zat is final!”_

_Jeremy glared at the larger man who slowly, after a nod from Medic, lowered him to the ground._

_“Boss ain’t going ta like this, Spoi,” Sniper said._

_“Well too damn bad!” Jean snapped. “’Ee’s my problem and I say ‘ee stays!”_

_“Ah, come on guys, we’re not really going ta off Spy’s wee brat, are we?” Demo asked. “We have hearts, right?”_

_“A true warrior is heartless!” Solider declared._

_“Eh, shove it up yer ass, Solly. I’m sure we can keep th’ boy quiet, right kid?” Demo offered._

_“I don’t think the boss will much care for that,” Medic warned._

_“Now you all need to calm down,” Engineer said. “Look, we hurt the kid, not only do we lose a reliable Spy, some of us will probably end up in the ground too. What we need here is a…practical solution to this dilemma.”_

_“A practical solution?” Jean asked._

_“Well, you know the boss and…useful people,” Engineer said._

_“Absolutely not.”_

_“I am_ trying _to keep your boy alive here, Spy. You’d best be more polite about it,” Engineer said._

_“Forgive me for being ambivalent about your suggestion,” Spy said. “It is not exactly a satisfying one.”_

_“And it’s all we got,” Engineer said. “So either I call her up and pitch it like the kid’s good at this kind of thing and should be hired, or we go back to what we were doing.”_

  _Jean assessed the situation. Best case scenario, Demoman, Engineer, and Pyro stayed out of it, but that left Solider, Heavy, Medic, and Sniper and even if they didn’t like it they’d do their job. He could probably,_ probably _get Medic and Sniper taken out and if the path to the door stayed clear Jeremy could have an easy time escaping the others…and be on the run for a very long time while Jean would be dead._

_“Ah, do I get a say in this? Because, uh, I don’t mind you know, bashing things,” Jeremy said. “And I’m really damn fast.”_

_“Spy?” Engineer asked._

_Spy sighed, “Oh,_ fine _. Everyone sit down, let’s figure out how the hell to make a teenager sound hirable to the woman_.”

.o.o.o.

 “What on earth are you doing?” Jean asked, stunned at the state of his kitchen.

 “Sandwiches. Miss Pauling said the place we’re going is a bit out of the way and we might need to pause and hide and stuff. So, you know, in case we get hungry,” Jeremy said.

 “How…thoughtful?” Jean offered. Food was not something he considered necessary to a body dump but then he was not the macabre Miss Pauling. “I expect you home by curfew, you still have school tomorrow.”

 “Oh, yeah, she thinks we’ll be back by six. Seven tops,” Jeremy said.

 “You have a firearm?”

 “Yeah, the revolver. Shotgun’s too big and noisy for this job. And my bat. Pauling’s bringing the shovels.”

 “Your other equipment is in order?”

 “I have my stuff, old man, chill,” Jeremy said. “And yes, the radio. In case of danger. She’ll have one too.”

 “Good. I will be researching zis thing with ze robots,” Jean said. “If we don’t see each other until tomorrow, good luck.”

 “You too, man.”

.o.o.o.

  _“Remarkable!” Medic said. “Spy, I think your progeny is possibly the fastest man on earth!”_

_“Well he’s quick, certainly,” Spy admitted as Demo continued futilely chasing the newly-dubbed Scout around with a sword. “Though such hyperbole may displease our boss.”_

_“It is not hyperbole!” Medic said. “Spy, Scout moves at an average speed of twenty-two miles per hour! Most sprinters barely manage that for a few hundred meters, I think we could actually get him to run for a full hour!”_

_“If you threw baseballs ahead of him ze whole way, perhaps,” Spy said._

_“He is also strong for skinny noodle arms,” Heavy added. “Will crush skulls of many lesser men under bat.”_

_“The marksmanship leaves something to be desired,” Sniper said. “Even if I give him something simply like a sawed off shotgun he’ll have to learn to handle recoil. Or would you rather teach him the revolver?”_

_“I doubt he’s patient enough to line up a proper revolver shot,” Spy said. “If he is to arrive with a bang, zen ze shotgun.”_

.o.o.o.

 “So that’s how you use a bone saw to save time with a shovel,” Miss explained.

 “Why don’t they teach us useful stuff like that in science class?” Scout wondered. “Hey, what’s with the bugs?”

 “Some police use what insects are on the body to determine time of death. This can throw them off a bit,” Miss said, carefully placing the maggots on the hacked up hunks of meat with tweezers. “All right, we’re good. Bury it.”

 “Wow, there’s really cops that smart out there?” Scout asked.

 “Well, sometimes. Whether or not they’re smart enough to get it right is up for debate, and that’s before we tamper,” Miss said. “Don’t tamp the dirt down to hard, it’ll look obvious.”

 “You got it,” Scout said. He frowned, “Hey, you hear that?”

 “It sounds like a vehicle,” Miss said. “Finish and run!”

 Scout quickly finished covering the bodies as Miss collected all of their equipment. They raced back to the truck.

 “We heading out fast?” Scout asked, grabbing the spare shotgun Miss kept in the back.

 “No, we’re moving quietly,” Pauling said. “Until we get back to the highway. Keep listening. Do you hear dogs?”

 “Yeah, no. Sounds like whatever car it is it’s got some clanking issues.”

 “All right,” Miss said, removing one of her barrettes and putting it back in after tidying her bangs. “All right that’s…good. If the vehicle has mechanical defects we should be able to outpace it. Or possibly get it to crash.”

 “Oh, that could be good. Then whoever’s in it takes the fall, right?” Scout asked. “For the bodies?”

 “Right,” Miss said. “Okay, bend coming up. Get ready to shoot, we don’t know what-”

 “Oh my god!” Scout said upon seeing what was on the other side.

.o.o.o.

  “ _Oh, hey Spy,” Scout said, getting to his feet. “Miss says you can’t be in here until we finish cleaning up the briefcase.”_

_“I see,” Spy said, directing his gaze to the ceiling. “Wait. Zen why are_ you _in zere?”_

_Had the past few months merely been a ruse? Did the Administrator want Scout dead and told Miss to ‘accidentally’ let him see classified information?_

_“I don’t know, Miss said it was okay,” Scout said._

_“Scout can’t read, remember Spy?” Miss asked._

_No. No he did not remember. “What!”_

_“I, uh, don’t think he actually knew that,” Scout muttered, shooting Miss the first annoyed look Spy had ever seen him give her._

_Scout couldn’t read?!?_

_“But…your report cards! I’ve seen zem!” Mostly low Cs, a B in math and As in gym and woodshop._

_“Well, yeah. I do enough to get by,” Scout said._

_And was on the baseball team as an important player so of course even if he couldn’t read they were probably passing him anyway to keep hi. Spy usually didn’t mind sports but that annoyed him. “You…you can’t read.”_

_“The letters go all wonky,” Scout said defensively._

_“He seems to transpose them in his head,” Miss said. “So I don’t have to worry about him reading classified documents.”_

_“Yeah, those walls of words all just kind of blend together into a mess,” Scout admitted, sighing. “Look, Spy-”_

_“I’m not mad at you. If you can’t read, you can’t read.” Spy was more annoyed with himself than anything. How did one live with a boy for almost a year and not notice they couldn’t read?_

.o.o.o.

  Standing on the road in front of their car was a robot. An honest-to-god robot like in the movies.

 And it had a gun.

 “Shoot!” Miss ordered, slamming on the accelerator.

 “I am, I am!” Scout yelled, firing rapidly at the bot, knocking it back. “Oh, jeez, do bullets even hurt bots?”

 The robot staggered upright, answering Scout’s question. The pellets were all embedded in its thick torso chassis, causing no more damage than dents.

 “Scout get ready to bail!” Miss said, her left foot kicking a brick over to the accelerator. “Go!”

 They both dove out of the car before it slammed into the robot, smashing it to bits.

 “I…I don’t think,” Scout panted. “That body’s gonna decompose…no matter what we do to it…”

 “We need to move,” Miss said, pulling out her radio. “Engie, this is Miss. Car’s wrecked and you aren’t going to believe by what…”

 “Robot the size of Heavy?” Engineer asked.

 “Um, no, actually,” Miss said. “Closer to Soldier or Demoman, really...”

 “Well they’re building ones that look like Heavy only metal so be careful—Pyro, Spy, what else you got for us?  Miss and Scout are running into these things!”

 There was the faint sound of a scream before Engineer sighed. “Yep, that’s gonna be a while. We broke into a research facility but the folks we kept alive aren’t worth much. Think they might just be security types and the fabricators weren’t in.”

 “Well we need a ride. Whoever’s free who doesn’t drive like Demo, send them,” Miss said as Scout inspected the wreckage. “We’re going to keep going down the road so we don’t get lost.”

 “Gra…no, gra-av,” Scout muttered, squinting at a hunk of metal. “Okay, okay, G, R, A…Y, that’s a Y…G…R…two GRs really? Um…”

 “Gray Group?” Miss asked, coming over. “Engineer, ask questions about Gray Group, got it?”

 “I’ll just bring this,” Scout said, stashing the hunk of metal in his bag. “Looks like a logo, you know?”

 “Good call. Reload and let’s move,” Miss said, drawing her pistol.

 .o.o.o.

  _“Okay so maybe I should have told you, but come on! It’s not that big a deal!” Jeremy said._

_“Scout, you can barely read short signs,” Jean said. “You guess given what zey are supposed to say or tell us everything on zem but the words. Zat is a problem.”_

_“Look it’s all down to reasoning,” Jeremy said. “I can tell when something’s probably the word I’m looking for. A lot of words aren’t that close. And I know stuff like sail and sale being different cause Es look so funny.”_

_“I’m not going to win this one so fine,” Jean said. “Tell me all of your tricks.”_

_“What?” Jeremy asked._

_“You say you know sail from sale because you make sure to look for ze E,” Jean said. “Tell me every other time you do things like zat. Tell me what trips you up and what goes fine, so I know how to direct you on missions or what you are telling me.”_

_“Okay. So...long words. Long words are shit unless I know about how long they should be and count letters and see if it’s right or not,” Jeremy said. “That works for short words too. If it starts with an S and it’s for us I count since you’re three, I’m five and Sniper’s six.”_

_“So you know how my letters zere are but zey swap around on you?”_

_“Yeah, unless I go one at a time but even then you got your Vs and Ys and your Cs and Ds and shit that look too alike and you got to take longer,” Jeremy said. “And I hate W. W is stupid and looks like M and V and A all at once.”_

_“Well if you’re good at guessing by look, perhaps you can memorize the looks of some important words and signs even if you cannot read zem,” Jean mused._

.o.o.o.

 “So…exciting, yeah?” Scout asked.

 “Fun date so far. Here I thought mixing it with work would be kind of routine,” Miss admitted, laughing. “But nope, got to run over an automaton.”

 “Oh man, you were so badass with that! It was great!” Scout said. “Good thing the truck didn’t blow up with the crash. We’d have fried.”

 “Yeah, that’s a good model. I’ll have to tell the Administrator how well it performed,” Miss said.

 “Okay so what’s the plan if we see another one of those?”

 “Well I’d swatch from your normal scatter ammo to armor-piercing,” Miss said. “And I have a few grenades we can use…but unless we can get really close and your bat can take them out, we may be in trouble.”

.o.o.o.

  _“So how’d you start working for this lady anyway?” Jeremy asked. “I mean, I got in cause of you and I guess Mimi got in cause of Dell but…you?”_

_“I was hired by ze Administrator four years ago,” Jean said. “Ze RED and BLU gangs were beginning to interfere too much with her business simply by existing so he had us play on old grudges.”_

_“And boom they fight each other and you take spoils from both,” Jeremy said. “Sweet. So…what were you doing before that?”_

_“Lots of things. I had a lovely four month mission in Milan gathering blackmail at one point,” Jean said. “…But zat’s not what you want to know.”_

_“Know it all,” Jeremy scoffed._

_“If you want to know, ask. I can’t read your mind, lapin.”_

_“How’d you even meet Ma?”_

_“She was bartending,” Jean said. “And ze only remotely intelligent conversation around. Plus a relative of one of my marks showed up and she buried a bottle in his face for attacking a paying customer.”_

_“So what, I get the swing from her?” Jeremy asked._

_“Oh yes. Zat and ze bluntness, ze accent, ze lack of any finesse…somehow_ she _made it work,” Jean said. “You? Not so much.”_

_“Go to hell, Dad.”_

_“Satan would have to find some way to top you, son.”_

.o.o.o.

 “Hey this is Scout. Where the fucking hell is our ride?”

 “Zis is Spy, we sent Heavy for you, just wait,” Spy said. “What is your status?”

 The radio crackled as Scout scoffed. “We ran into another one of those things. I beat it to bits and Miss stole it’s rifle. Which was good cause a third one showed up. Tell Sniper his job’s in danger if she ever decides she wants it!”

 “Oh, I am sure ze bushman will _love_ such news,” Spy said, shooting Sniper a smirk. Sniper, not sure of what it was about, flipped him off and went back to keeping watch as Pyro and Demo finished ransacking the factory.

 “Yeah so we’re up a tree right now so we can hide and watch the road. But on the upside, things are going well.”

 Spy assumed he meant the date. “Good to hear. Be ready for a full debrief when you return.”

 “Okay wait are you talking the mission or the…other thing. Cause no way I’m spilling my guts to you about that!”

 “You can tell me or I can find out anyway.”

 “Go to hell, Spy!”

 “If hell has no Scouts, zat may be a good idea.”

 He sighed as the connection cut off. Killing people was one thing but fighting robots? Not what he’d signed up for. The pay had better start reflecting this new insanity. He would need a lot of tobacco for putting up with it, and Scout would probably want cable or something.

 Oh well. At least his son would be gainfully employed once he exited high school. Those robots weren’t going to be taken care of any time soon, it seemed…

.o.o.o.

 “ _Remind me why I’m even still in school?”_

_“You mean ozer zan because I say so?” Jean asked._

_Jeremy rolled his eyes and bounced his baseball off the wall again, “All I’m saying is, I’ve already got a job that pays pretty well, even if you’re taking my checks.”_

_“Zey are in a bank. When you are eighteen zey will be your problem but until zen you shall deal with ze fact zat you cannot be trusted with money.”_

_“Tch. Whatever. Anyway, I’ve got a job that pays and I like it. What good is school?”_

_“A high school diploma can be useful. Even if it just for applying to mercenary contracts—it aids in salary negotiation.”_

_“Oh yeah they people who care about my ability to bash in heads are really going to give a shit about how plants work or who Lincoln was or what a limerick is,” Jeremy said._

_“No but your math skills mean you know what numbers are bigger zan others,” Jean said. “Like what we did last Tuesday night. Would you do_ zat _for a hundred dollars?”_

_“Heck no! I almost got shot three times and killed a guy! I better be getting thousands for that!”_

_“And zere you go,” Jean said. “Tell you what…I know you’re still a bit mad at your brothers for dumping you on me. Finish out ze year and your graduation present will be my aid in pulling tricks on every single one of them.”_

_“That’s seven gigs old man. You up for it?”_

_Jean smirked. Seven young men who didn’t call or write and apparently were why Jeremy knew to run away so fast? That would be pleasure, not business. “Oui. I think zere are some fun things I could show you, son.”_

.o.o.o.

 “Saw wreckage on road. Looked bad,” Heavy said.

 “Yeah. Those bots? Creepy as hell,” Scout said, letting Miss take shotgun as he settled in the backseat. “Thanks for the pickup, though.”

 “We are going to Doktor’s home,” Heavy said. “There will be meeting. Administrator claims she has plans.”

 “Good, we’ll need them,” Miss said. “I’ll need to look into whatever this Gray Group is. Those robots could wipe out Redmond and Blutarch’s factions easily. If we have to switch from exploiting a war to fighting one, we may be in trouble.”

 “I don’t know…I mean the bots are tougher but hey, maybe we all could use a challenge. Those guys the old fogeys hire aren’t worth crap,” Scout said.

 “Tiny Scout should be careful what he wishes for,” Heavy said.

 “Yeah Scout, we don’t know what’s going to happen,” Miss said.

 “Actually I meant that,” Heavy said, pointing up the road where more robots were coming. “I shall get Sasha.”

 “I’ll drive,” Miss said as Heavy got his gun and climbed on top of the car.

 “Come and get some!” Heavy roared as Miss floored it.

.o.o.o.

 “They should have been back by now,” Jane said. “Demoman! We are going to go on a rescue mission!”

 “Heavy is a slow driver, comrade,” Ludwig said. “He is very cautious on American roads.”

 They head a car door slam.

 “See, there they are,” Mundy said, peering out the window. “Crikey, they all look beat. Medic, might want to grab your stuff.”

 Jean opened the door and waved Miss Pauling, Jeremy, and Mikhail in. “You all look like shit.”

 “Yeah an’ you’re a real prize,” Jeremy said.

 “What happened?” Tavish asked as Dell gave Miss Pauling the armchair he’d been using.

 “More robots happened,” Miss Pauling said. “Mikhail mowed down most of them and Jeremy bashed up the rest.”

 “Oh come on Miss Pauling, you ran over one or two!” Jeremy said.

 “Sit down before you fall over and ‘urt yourself!” Jean said.

 “Worrywart,” Jeremy scoffed.

 “Brat.”

 “Save the lovefest!” Jane said. “Maggots, we now face an enemy unlike anything we have ever seen before! I want these robots ground into piles of nuts and bolts!”

 “Ja, comrade, that vould be very inspiring if you were the person giving the orders,” Medic said. “But in actuality, ve vant the people making all those annoying robots, do we not?”

 “We do,” Pauling said. “Before this gets out of control. She should call with plans soon.”

 “So…” Jean said, pulling Jeremy into the hall. “How did it go?”

 “Oh, well, great until the bots showed up,” Jeremy said. “She said I do a great job of digging graves. Real speedy, you know?”

 “Another talent of yours to add to your mercenary resume then,” Jean said.

 “What can I say, man? I’m a natural,” Jeremy said.

 “Despite being an utter thorn in my side some days…yes. Yes you are,” Jean chuckled.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first 2.5k of this over a year ago, the recent comic release inspired me to finish it. I originally was calling Scout Lucas but I like Jeremy more so I switched it. Presumably after the ending Helen reveals her new plan or whatever and the team hops to it.
> 
> As for Scout's age, he's fifteen thru seventeen in the flashbacks, and seventeen and a half in present time. Miss Pauling is, as best Spy can guess, somewhere between Scout's age maybe seven years older, but he's not sure and doesn't care since so far their dates are essentially them having fun while Scout helps her with her odder jobs.


End file.
